Beds and Books
by JamesLuver
Summary: "His lordship said to stay in bed and read books. I don't think he had this in mind."


**A/N:** Lame title is lame.

**fuzzydream** has written an absolutely perfect piece based on the same point in episode seven as me. Its called _Safe Haven_ and it's brilliant, so go read it! And please leave her a review too! :) I had no idea that we'd both written something to do with that scene. I wouldn't have bothered if I had known, because there's no comparison between the two. Hers is truly wonderful. But I didn't want to waste this since it got rather long.

**fuzzydream** (**fuzzy-dreams**), along with **a-rabbit-hearted-girl** (**theglamourfades**) and **peachdreamsandperseus** actually inspired me to write this, through their tumblr posts on Sunday night about Robert being silly to think that John would want to spend his time in bed and reading books (unless he had Anna with him, of course!), and how tired Anna was looking at the breakfast table. I was too psyched to sleep and totally believed that the reason why John didn't appear when Thomas and Jimmy were causing a scene was because he was hiding a certain wife in his room, so I ended up writing this instead, but I was too tired to edit it yesterday and only found time today after I'd finished my university work. So thank you for that, guys!

**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey_ is not mine. There would have been reunion scenes galore if it was.

* * *

_Beds and Books_

As far as John could make out by turning his head to the side, it was very late indeed. Or very early, if he thought of it that way. In just a few hours' time, Anna would have to creep out of his room and make her way back to her own. They were both incredibly grateful for the fact that neither of them had to share.

Anna was currently reclining lazily on top of him, her eyes half-lidded with a mixture of sleepiness and desire. It was a truly beautiful look, one which John wanted to capture again and again and again, never letting it out of his memory. Her hair was satisfactorily tousled, a tangled mess that cascaded down her shoulders and tickled his skin. One of his hands was busy stroking a path through it, parting the locks between his fingers, marvelling at how soft it felt, how gorgeous she looked, so dishevelled and flushed. His other hand was splayed low on her back, just above the curve of her bottom, holding her close to him. Her skin was so warm, and a little sticky from their exertions. God, he never wanted this night to end.

Anna, for her part, was busy stroking her hands slowly through his hair, down his cheeks, across his throat. Her fingers were so soft and gentle. He wondered how she managed to keep them so, when she worked so hard each and every day. He was simply enamoured by her. Every single inch of her. From the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes, she was simply incredible. He could hardly wait until they were in a proper bed, when he'd be able to worship every inch of her exactly how she deserved to be worshipped. John was grateful for the fact that this bed had given them the opportunity to make love like they'd both been longing to for so long, but it wasn't ideal. Its narrowness meant that there was no room for manoeuvring, and it was rather hard and uncomfortable; Anna had complained the first time that they'd made love that it wasn't doing her back any favours. If they'd wanted to, they could have slept more comfortably in separate beds – the second bed that had always occupied his room was still there – but neither had liked the idea of moving apart, even if it was only a few feet. Instead, they'd made the most of their time talking in whispers and touching softly, John flat on his back, Anna resting comfortably on top of him. The feel of her naked, milky limbs was more than enough to appease the protesting ache in his stiff knee.

Even now, John didn't quite believe that they'd actually dared to do such a thing every night since his return. He had always been completely adept at reigning in his desires and keeping himself in check. Sometimes that quality had frustrated his Anna, but it had been the one thing that he had always relied upon.

Now, however, it appeared that that quality had long since abandoned him, had been left behind in his dank prison cell. When he had been told that he could have his old room back, his heart had sunk. There hadn't been any arrangements for him and Anna to spend their nights together before their move to their very own cottage, and while John would never dream of broaching the subject with either Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes or his lordship himself for fear of embarrassing everyone, the idea of spending even one more night without Anna by his side made him feel sick. And, rightly or wrongly, he had felt more than a little indignant that they should be expected to continue sleeping apart when they could finally be together. They had been denied the luxury for more than a whole year. Prison had made him greedy; he hadn't wanted to say goodbye to her on the servants' staircase, watching her make her way to her own lonely room on that first night after his release.

Thankfully, it had been his Anna, with a fire in her eyes and determination in her heart, who had broached the subject of one of them crossing the great divide that was the door in the middle of the servants' corridor. Out in the courtyard, away from prying eyes, they had been kissing very enthusiastically. Anna's hands had been seemingly everywhere on his person, setting him alight, and he'd been doing his own level best to trace the curves of her body. When his fingers had brushed perilously low, his mouth slanted ardently against hers, she had pulled away with a gasp.

_"What's wrong, love?"_ he'd panted. The endearment had slipped so easily from his lips, as though he'd been uttering them a lifetime. It had made his heart ache a little at the thought that it _hadn't_ been a lifetime, just barely a few hours.

Her eyes had darkened at the sound of it, and she'd run her tongue over her bottom lip – which was rather swollen, he'd noticed, and would doubtless raise eyebrows.

_"I can't say goodnight to you tonight,"_ she'd said at last, murmuring quietly, fingers slipping beneath his jacket._ "Not after all this."_

_"I don't want to say goodnight to you either,"_ he'd said in reply, unable to resist dipping his head to kiss her again.

_"I don't want to sleep alone a minute longer than I have to,"_ she'd continued, tilting her head to the side to allow him access to the underside of her throat.

He'd made a sound that he'd supposed was meant to be an agreement.

_"Then let's do something about it,"_ she'd sighed, running her fingers down the arm of his jacket.

_"Like what?"_ he'd panted. _"His lordship didn't mention anything about the two of us sharing a room before the cottage."_

She'd raised an eyebrow at him. It had made his pulse quicken. _"And who says we need permission to? We didn't have his lordship's permission last time."_

_Last time._ Those words had filled his head with such images that he'd actually moaned aloud, a breathy sound that had been smothered by the press of her lips. Her gaze had swept over his face unabashedly when they'd parted, her teeth catching her bottom lip. He'd known then, in that instance, that he'd never be able to resist her charms. She'd looked too adorable, too perfect.

_"What do you have in mind, Mrs. Bates?"_ he'd gasped, drawing her closer.

Her hands had splayed against his chest, stroking soothingly. _"I propose that I cross the great boundary and sneak into your room."_

His eyes had widened almost comically._ "What!?"_

_"You heard me,"_ she'd breathed, leaning closer. _"I'll come to you tonight."_

_"You'll be in trouble if you're caught."_

_"You make it sound as though you'd rather not spend your time with me."_ Her tone had been light and teasing as she'd brushed up against him, careful to make sure that she darted her fingers scandalously over his hips.

The feel of her acting in such a way had made the breath catch in his throat, and he had been unable to resist pulling her flush against him._ "Oh, that's very far from the truth. I just don't want Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to feel like they'd have a duty to punish us if we were caught."_

_"Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes would be very cruel if they punished us for trying to spend the night together as husband and wife, when we haven't been together properly in more than a whole year."_

_"It might give some of the others ideas though,"_ he'd said teasingly. _"And you'd be seen as a terrible influence and a bad role model."_

_"What do you mean?"_

His lips had moved to her cheek. _"Well,_ you'd _be the one caught in_ my _room._ You'd _be the one doing the sneaking around. Therefore_ you'd_ be the guiltier party. You should at least let me be the one to get into trouble if we were ever caught. I'm the prisoner. That sort of terrible behaviour should be expected of an inmate. Let me be the one to come to you."_

She'd grinned at him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. _"And how are you going to do that when the lock to Mrs. Hughes' door is on the women's side?"_

_"Do you truly have so little faith in me? I could pick the lock. Or sneak in through the women's staircase. Or you could make things easy for me and leave the door unlocked."_

_"They'd hear you coming,"_ she'd teased. _"Your cane would bring Mrs. Hughes flying out of her room."_

_"I managed without a cane in prison,"_ he'd whispered against her skin. _"I can manage a few paces, I'm sure."_

But she'd been insistent. _"When the house is quiet, I'll come to you."_

He'd relented, loving the look in her eyes. They'd said goodnight, exchanging mischievous grins and a chaste embrace. In the time between their parting and her sneaking into his room, he'd spent it attempting to make the room as presentable as possible. It wasn't the most ideal room for them to spend their first night back together in. If John had had his own way, he would have loved to have laid her down on satin sheets, making love to her slowly with the material sliding smoothly over her skin, heightening both of their pleasures. As it was, he'd been stuck with the thin, itchy sheets that plagued each bed in the servants' quarters. It wasn't what he'd wanted for her. She'd deserved so much more than that, a thousand different gifts for her beauty and her perseverance and her unshakeable faith. But he'd done his best to make the room look soft and inviting, lighting a few candles so that their glow would make everything look more intimate, laying his gown across the bed so that it would be more comfortable. He'd reminded himself constantly that Anna had to be the one to set the boundaries. If she didn't want to make love, he'd told himself, then he would be completely content with her decision. It would be nice to know her in that way again, especially since he could barely remember the details of their wedding night, but it was more important to him that he actually got to hold her in his arms, to fall asleep with her pressed against him.

He needn't have worried about that. As soon as Anna had stepped into his room without knocking to ensure that the noise wouldn't rouse the suspicion of any of the other men in the corridor, she had kissed him with such a fervour that he'd known that there wasn't a doubt in her mind about how she wanted to spend the evening. Before he'd even had the chance to hold her properly, she'd been working at the buttons on his pyjama top.

_"Anna?"_ he'd managed, his hands stroking her waist.

She'd moved to capture his lips again._ "Not now, John. We're not talking now."_

She hadn't needed to say any more. He'd known what she'd meant. Already, in such close proximity to her, his body had begun to respond, pulsing urgently against hers. Of their own accord, his hands had begun to address the issue of the clothes on her body, sliding her shawl from her shoulders, feathering her face in kisses, sliding his fingers down the length of her arms and drawing goosebumps to her flesh as he did so. And, when they'd been almost naked, he had coaxed her towards the bed, laid her down upon his gown, ensured that she was comfortable as she'd stretched out her limbs, encouraging her to open her legs so that he could slip between them.

She'd been trembling as he'd let his gaze roam worshipfully over the parts of her that were revealed to him.

_"What's the matter?"_ he'd whispered, touching a hand to her face.

_"I'm just a bit nervous,"_ she'd admitted, looking rather shamefaced at the fact.

He'd kissed her gently, so gently. _"I'm nervous too."_

_"You are?"_

He'd nodded, one of his hands finding hers and entwining their fingers. _"Yes. I want to treat you as wonderfully as I possibly can. You deserve it so much. I just don't want to disappoint you."_

_"Never,"_ she'd declared, and had kissed him then.

Soon the rest of their clothes had become superfluous as they'd boldly begun to move their hands over each other's bodies. Both had realised the importance of keeping quiet after such a long time away from each other, aware of the fact that they were living dangerously. Anna had curled one of her hands around the metal head of his bed, muffling the little gasps of pleasure that she inadvertently released against his neck or mouth; he'd been as thorough as possible when exploring her body in their confined space, touching and tasting her breasts, drawing his fingers across her. When he'd shifted his hips and joined them together, the bliss that had overtaken them both had never felt more incredible. She'd urged him on in whispers, linking her spare hand with his and drawing it between their bodies so that she could kiss his fingers, and his other hand had played with the wisps of hair that had fallen free from her braid.

Afterwards, they had lain together in a contented afterglow, exchanging soft kisses and loving looks. When John had found the energy, he'd shifted from his wife and she'd reluctantly stood, allowing him to lie down so that she could move on top of him to sleep. He'd awoken early thanks to his protesting knee, and they had made love again before Anna had redressed herself and slipped from the room back to her own before she was due to be roused by Ivy.

They had made it their nightly ritual since then. John had never even considered changing it. He was not going to spend his time without his wife when he'd been denied the privilege for so long.

Now, Anna sighed softly as she shifted atop him, breaking him from his ruminations.

"You've got that look on your face again," she said teasingly.

"What look?"

She stroked her fingers down his cheek, moved to kiss him. "The one that means that you're very pleased with yourself."

His chuckle was low and happy. "Who says that I'm pleased with myself? I was merely thinking about the two of us, my love."

She lowered her voice too, moving her mouth to his ear so that she could whisper conspiratorially into it. "Well, if you want to know something, I think you should be feeling _very_ pleased with yourself right now. That was quite a performance, Mr. Bates."

"Why, thank you," he said. "You were rather outstanding yourself, Mrs. Bates."

She grinned at him, then moved to press her lips against his chest, hiding her face from view. He loved it when she acted coy, especially since he'd discovered that she was anything but shy. It had been a pleasant surprise to see how quickly she'd adapted to the two of them getting used to each other in a manner that they should have been comfortable with long ago.

"When do you think we'll have a cottage of our own?" Her voice broke through his thoughts, and he tilted his head so that he could look down at her. Her features flickered in the intimate candlelight, gilding her skin a beautiful gold.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Soon, I hope. His lordship did say that he'd do his best for us."

"I hope it's soon too," she mused. "Very soon indeed. I like being with you this way – it's far more appealing than us being apart – but I just wish…"

"You just wish that we could be together properly?" he finished. "So do I, Anna. I dream of the day when I can make love to you in a proper bed, and fall asleep holding you in my arms properly. There are a thousand ways to worship you, Anna, and I want to try them all."

"Only a thousand?" she said, though her cheeks had flushed a deep crimson with embarrassment. He loved that look upon her face.

"A million," he amended, "a limitless number." His hand crept from her back to snake around her front, seeking out a breast.

It was quite clear where this was heading. "Describe them to me," she gasped, her breath quickening. She had to bite her lip to stifle the moan that worked its way into her throat at the feel of his fingers tenderly stroking her sensitive flesh.

"Oh, I will," he said, moving his lips to her shoulder. "In great detail."

She released her breath in a ragged sigh, moving to capture his lips –

They were interrupted then by the sound of yelling from somewhere out in the men's corridor. Anna and John almost fell out of the bed at the sound, so sudden it was, and they both turned in a panicked unison to face the door.

"What the bloody hell is that?" John murmured, as the shouts from outside grew louder.

"I don't know!" Anna sounded panicky.

John urged Anna from his chest, and she clambered awkwardly to the floor as he swung his legs out of bed expertly and began to pull on his discarded pyjamas. She moved to find her nightgown, her heart thumping in her chest. The last thing she needed was being found out here – she'd joked about it, it was true, but it was quite different when it was about to become a reality.

A reality that seemed even more tangible when Mr. Carson's bellowing tone was added to the fray. John cursed again and flung himself towards the door. He knew he didn't look exactly presentable, but he hoped that whoever Mr. Carson was preoccupied with would distract him suitably so that he wouldn't take in his appearance.

"Anna, get over here!" he hissed at his wife, who seemed to be frozen to the spot. She shook herself at the sound of his voice and darted over to his side. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, making sure that she was as close to the wall as possible, and then waited. If Mr. Carson came to seek his assistance, then he would be able to open the door and leave Anna hidden from view – at least, that was what he hoped. It wasn't exactly fool proof, but it was the best that he could do. Anna was trembling. Together, they waited in silence, straining to hear the words spoken, wondering just when Mr. Carson's heavy footfall would come towards his door.

But it didn't. There was the sound of movement out in the corridor, the shutting of four different doors…and then nothing. John and Anna held their breaths for a few minutes longer, straining to hear any sound from outside, but it was completely silent. Carefully, John reached out for the door. Anna's eyes widened as he grasped the doorknob, but he ignored her as he opened the door enough to poke his head around. Nothing. No one. The corridor was clear. He withdrew his head with relief, quietly closing the door again. He turned to find Anna's wide, expectant gaze on him.

"It's safe," he murmured, allowing himself to smile. She returned it, equally relieved, and stepped into his arms.

"Thank God," she whispered, "I was terrified for a moment there."

"What happened to your rebel spirit?" he teased her.

She whacked him lightly, shivering in the cool air. "Don't pretend that you weren't as terrified as I was. And you're the rebel convict at that."

He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so freely, so often. Anna always knew exactly what to say. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to lead her back to the bed.

"Is it really wise to do this again?" she said as he began to draw her nightgown off.

He paused for a moment, grinning cheekily. Now that his scare was over, he was feeling rather invincible, having stared danger in the face and survived. "Probably not. But I'm not sure if I want to learn from my mistakes. And I doubt that it's safe for you to try to sneak out just yet, so it looks like you're stuck here with me."

"We could keep our clothes on, though," she said, biting back a smile of her own as her hands snaked to his pyjama top. "You know, just in case we're ever caught unaware again."

"We could," he agreed, pulling the gown over her head.

"We _should_," she murmured, throwing his top to the floor triumphantly and moving to his bottoms.

He turned briefly to pull the covers back, slipping underneath them. She followed a second later, sliding her knees either side of him and moving to fit her head under his chin. He drew the sheets back over them as adequately as he could, and she nestled contentedly against him.

"Mr. Bates?" she said at length.

"Yes?" He found the fact that she still inadvertently slipped into calling him by his formal name utterly endearing. "What is it?"

She shifted her head so that she could peer earnestly into his eyes. "A long time ago, you spoke those same words to me when we were sitting in the servants' hall."

"Did I?" he said.

"Yes," she nodded. "And it's rather fitting that you said them again now."

"In what way?"

She leaned in, touched her lips to his. "Because I want to repeat the same words that I said on that night to you now."

"I'm listening," he said softly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears.

She closed her eyes against his touch, then opened them again so that she could peer into his face. When she spoke, her voice had never sounded more honest. "In my whole life, I never thought I could be as happy as I am at this moment."

It came rushing back to him then, the night that she'd spoken those words to him for the first time. He would never forget that day. She'd looked beautiful in the gentle light, with tears in her eyes and a bright smile on her face, back in the day when Vera hadn't been casting an ominous threat over their relationship. He had never been happier in his life hearing those words spilling from her lips, and the same was true in this moment. To know that he made her happy was almost incomprehensible…but it felt wonderful to know. Taking her left hand in his own, he was suddenly overcome. Fiercely, he raised it to his mouth, pressing his lips right over her wedding band.

"I love you," he told her. The honest rawness in his voice made her eyes water.

"I love you too," she echoed, shifting herself along his body. "I love you so much."

He was acutely aware of what she was going to do, and let the breath hiss from between his teeth when she touched him low. He lowered his free hand to reciprocate the action, and soon they were thoroughly distracted from all thoughts of Mr. Carson prowling the corridor.

* * *

They didn't sleep at all that night, just in case they needed to spring from the bed again. Instead they spent the time murmuring to each other in low voices, sweeping their hands through each other's hair, exchanging tender kisses.

"Anna?" John asked as the room finally began to get a little lighter, the first rays of the sun beginning to touch the world.

"Yes?" she said softly, lifting her head up from where it had been pillowed on his chest. She frowned when she saw his own pensive frown. "What's wrong?"

"Do you ever think I'll get my job back?" he asked.

She shook her head in mild exasperation. "You're still dwelling on that? I've told you: you'll get it back without a shadow of a doubt. Thomas will just have to go. Unless they get rid of one of the other footmen and then demote him, of course. I can't see them getting rid of Alfred – Mr. Carson likes him and Miss O'Brien would likely murder us all if he was to be fired. So maybe Jimmy will have to go instead."

"But his lordship is taking a long time to decide," John argued. "And he's obviously been pleased with Thomas' work."

"But he doesn't respect Thomas the way he respects you," she countered. "Believe me, John, he'll take you back. Besides, I'm rather jealous of you."

"Jealous of me?"

"Oh yes, very jealous, actually. You've been given permission to stay in bed if you want to."

He chuckled lowly, stroking his hands down her back. "His lordship said to stay in bed and read books. I don't think he had this in mind."

"Whatever do you mean?" she said innocently.

"This," he said with a smile. "You and I staying in this bed to make love. You bringing me the most sordid of books to read. They leave me quite insensible waiting for you, I'll have you know."

"That was the idea," she confided lowly. "I wish I could stay in bed with you. I don't want to get up."

"_I_ wish you could stay with me," he said. "It's not the same without you."

"One day soon," she promised, managing to stifle a yawn with great difficulty. "I can hardly wait."

She slipped from under the sheets then, shivering as she bent to collect her nightgown. John rolled onto his side to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. He smiled as he watched her, letting his eyes trace the curves of her body. God, she was gorgeous.

"Stop that," she said, without turning around.

"Stop what?" he said, his best innocent expression.

"You're staring at me."

"I'm not. Honestly, love."

She whirled around with her eyebrows raised, and he grinned sheepishly.

"You're doing a wonderful job of averting your eyes, John Bates."

"It would be a shame to not appreciate the view."

She rolled her eyes good naturedly as he threw the covers from himself and shuffled to the edge of the bed, naked and at ease. God, that was a magnificent sight. She couldn't wait until she could witness it every day in the privacy of their own home.

Standing, John stretched out his limbs, then bent down to retrieve his own night clothes. Catching Anna watching him interestedly out of the corner of his eye, he turned towards her and smirked.

"You're doing a wonderful job of averting your eyes, Anna Bates," he mimicked.

She giggled, flushing scarlet as he pulled on his bottoms. "I think I've just developed the taste for beautiful views."

He smiled, limping over to her. She wrapped her arms around him, sinking into his embrace, then by mutual understanding, they tilted their faces so that they could kiss. It was slow and unhurried and deep, the kind that made Anna want to do nothing but drag her husband back to bed with her. Knowing that she was dangerously close to doing just that, she broke away from him, resting her head against his chest.

"I really need to get going now," she said. Her voice was heavy with regret.

"I know," he said, his own tone disheartened. He released his hold on her, then stepped towards the door. Opening it and peeking both ways, he motioned that it was safe for Anna to exit. She slid past him quickly, turning to place one last kiss against his cheek before darting down the corridor to the door that separated the men from the women. Pausing to glance back once, she waved at him then stepped through the door, shutting it firmly behind her and locking it securely. Mrs. Hughes would never know.

John smiled as he watched her go, closing his door quietly behind him and smothering a yawn. He eyed his bed appreciatively. He usually hated spending so much time in his room because it made him feel lazy. But perhaps for once it wouldn't matter. His lordship had ordered him to rest. And he was certainly tired. He felt guilty for being allowed the luxury to sleep after the night he'd had, when Anna was going to be forced to survive somehow on no sleep whatsoever, but he could feel his eyelids drooping. With a weary sigh, he lay back and contemplated the ceiling. It would be good to just have an hour to rest.

He'd drifted off a few minutes later.

* * *

John did not make an appearance at breakfast that morning, so Anna was forced to sit in her usual seat between Thomas and Mrs. Hughes. There was a frosty atmosphere that no one seemed inclined to talk about. She was glad when she could escape from the servants' hall to begin her morning duties, stifling another yawn. She wondered if she'd get any sleep tonight. Probably not, but she couldn't complain at all if it was her husband keeping her awake in such a wonderful way.

"Anna?" The sound of Mrs. Hughes' voice behind her made her jump. Startled, she whirled around.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?" she asked. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The housekeeper shook her head, though her eyes lingered over her face. "No, there's nothing that I need help with. I'm just a little worried about you. You look tired this morning."

Anna flushed, clasping her hands reflexively to her chest. "Do you think so? Well, I haven't slept all that well recently, if I'm honest."

Mrs. Hughes looked more concerned than ever. "Why not?"

_Because my husband has been doing a wonderful job of coaxing me into staying awake,_ she thought, blush deepening as she felt the ghost of his hands on her body. "Oh, I suppose that I'm just restless now that Mr. Bates is home."

"I would have thought that you'd be more at peace than ever now that he's back."

"Oh, I am," she hastened to reassure her. "But I suppose now that he's home, I'm finding it so overwhelming. I mean, last week he was in prison, and now he's here and I can touch him –"

"Careful, Anna," the housekeeper said with a laugh. "I'd rather not be exposed to the details, thank you."

Anna giggled too; she couldn't help it. Everything was so much brighter in the world now that her husband was free.

"Go on," said Mrs. Hughes with a shake of her head. "I won't ask anything anymore."

"I wasn't implying anything," she protested.

"I know," she said, but her smile was shrewd, as though she knew more than she was letting on.

Anna thought it was the best thing to excuse herself then before the conversation got more intimate than she was comfortable with, and moved towards the staircase. She was stopped by Mrs. Hughes' voice once more.

"Anna, I am so very glad that you and Mr. Bates have been reunited at last. Truly."

Her eyes welled up at the words. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. You have no idea how good it is to hear that."

They stood in silent understanding for a few seconds longer before the ringing of Lady Mary's bell interrupted them. Anna left with a happy grin, almost skipping despite her tiredness.

Yes, life was truly wonderful now.

* * *

She didn't see her husband until luncheon, when she entered the servants' hall to find him sitting in their new seats opposite Thomas. He grinned as soon as he caught sight of her, and she felt the expression mirroring on her own face, broad and honest. Walking to take the seat next to him, she couldn't resist running her hand over his shoulders. He took her right hand in his left as soon as she'd sat herself down, twining their fingers together beneath the table.

Noticing that everyone else was preoccupied by something Mr. Molesley was saying, Anna took the opportunity to bend in and breathe in his ear. "You look nice and rested."

His chuckle was low. "I was able to get a couple of hours' sleep. But you're looking as beautiful as ever, even without it."

"Not to some," she said. "Mrs. Hughes has expressed her concern that I look tired."

He blushed a little, but looked entirely too pleased with himself. "I still think you're looking wonderful."

"You flatterer. You're only saying that."

He shook his head, lowering his voice even more as he heard an argument break out between Daisy, Ivy and Mrs. Patmore. "No, I'm not. I can hardly believe that you're my wife."

She smiled, seeing an opportunity to remind him of their afternoon excursion to see the cottages.

"Believe," she said simply.

His smile was almost blinding. She knew he finally did.

* * *

That night, when she crept through the door to his room, she found him lying flat on his back instead of pacing the floor near the door, ready to pull her into a crushing embrace as soon as she entered.

"John?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

He propped himself up on his elbows, smiling softly. "Nothing's wrong. Come here."

Frowning, she did as she was told, and he threw the covers from his body to reveal his pyjamas.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "I don't understand."

He looked shy, nervous. "I thought we could sleep for a bit. If you wanted to."

She knew she was staring in surprise. In actual fact, she _was_ surprised. She had been eager to make love with him again, the touch of him on her body something that she had craved for so long, but the thought of simply curling up on top of him and drifting off so sleep was equally agreeable. She was all too aware of how tired she actually was.

Nodding, she slipped under the covers on top of him, and he wrapped them around the both of them again.

"Hello," he said softly as she moved in to kiss him.

"Hello," she repeated as they parted with a soft smack of their lips, smiling. Settling down on top of him in the narrow bed, she sighed.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked instantly.

She shook her head, laying her head over his heart. It was beating steadily against her ear. It was such a soothing sound. "No, I'm just tired. It's nice to be able to lie here with you."

He kissed her hair, wrapped his arms around her back. "Sleep then, love. It will do you good."

She nodded, letting her eyes drift closed as she focused on his breathing. This was what she was looking forward to. Having a home with him, able to touch him in the privacy of their own four walls, able to lie beside him properly in a soft bed, to have his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, instead of being cramped up in a bed barely fit for one, never mind two. And then she thought of being able to make love with him in a free environment, to be able to stretch out her limbs and try new things (she blushed a little at the thought) and to be able to whimper aloud without the fear of being overheard. She shivered at the thought; she could barely wait.

"Mr. Bates?" she murmured into the darkness.

He hummed, squeezing her tightly.

She took that as the confirmation to continue. Gently levering herself up so that she could look directly into his face, she bit her lip bashfully. "Will you wake me up an hour or so before I have to leave?"

"Of course," he replied. "But why? Wouldn't you like as much sleep as possible?"

"That would be nice," she admitted, colouring lightly and biting her lip harder, "but I'd rather like to make love before I leave. If you want to."

He leaned up, captured her lips softly, leaving her in no doubt as to his answer. "I would rather like that too."

"Good," she said shyly, "because I think I'll need it to get me through the day. I'd go mad if we didn't."

"Well," he said huskily, "we can't have that."

* * *

**A/N:** And there we have it. I _did_ want to write some "paint-war-turned-messy-lovemaking" 'fic before the episode on Sunday, but I won't have time to now, so that's that. I hope you enjoyed this. :) Please feel free to leave your thoughts :)


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